


Solicitation

by sirenofodysseus



Series: Candles [2]
Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-24
Updated: 2013-06-24
Packaged: 2017-12-16 01:09:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/856043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirenofodysseus/pseuds/sirenofodysseus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Red John is getting married, and the team is invited.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Solicitation

**Author's Note:**

> I sometimes write crack!fic and I sometimes like the results; this is one of those times. 
> 
> Genre: Crack

            “Did anybody else get a strange letter today?” Teresa Lisbon asked her unit, as they all (with the exception of Patrick Jane, who seemed entirely _too_ content on his couch) sat around the silver conference table stashed between Jane’s couch and Wayne Rigsby’s desk.

 

            “You mean a red one, boss?” Grace Van Pelt asked from next to Rigsby. Lisbon nodded and pulled out the scarlet colored envelope buried within her current manila case folder. Van Pelt nodded. “Yeah, I got that letter too!” The red haired agent stood from her seat, and hurried to her desk.

 

            “Cho? Rigsby?” Lisbon inquired, as she glanced at them both.

 

            “Yeah.” Cho responded with a brisk nod.  “I haven’t opened it yet though.” Lisbon frowned.

 

Rigsby shrugged. “I haven’t checked my mailbox today.”

 

Lisbon blinked. “Go check.” Rigsby nodded, and left the table. “It’s probably safe to say that we _all_ recei…”

 

            “You didn’t ask me if I got one, Lisbon.” Jane interrupted her. “Assuming things makes an…”

 

            “You _asked_ me via text message if I had gotten any strange pieces of mail today, Jane.” Lisbon threw with her eyes narrowed. “Unless you’re sending us all birthday party invites…”

 

            “My birthday was _last_ week.” Jane wryly commented. “And no, these aren’t from me. I honestly have _no_ idea who sent them.”

 

            “There’s no return address.” Cho pointed out.

 

            “You are very correct!” Jane brightly returned, as he moved from his couch to join them around the table. “Whoever sent us these letters doesn’t want to be found, and how many people do you know that don’t want to be found?”

 

            “Right off the top of my head?” Lisbon questioned. Jane nodded. “All of the criminals in the Sacramento area.”

 

            “Petty criminals with empty pockets and grotesque consciences aside.” Jane answered. “Who else?”

 

Lisbon opened her mouth to answer, when Rigsby stepped back into the bullpen and held the envelope in his hands. “Come on Jane, there’s _no_ way that…”

 

            “It’s _red_ , Lisbon.”

 

            “My coffee is black,” she snipped back. “Yet, it doesn’t mean my heart is black.” Jane merely grinned at her, and Lisbon rolled her eyes at his hidden jab. “Red John doesn’t send letters to us. It’s not in his MO.”

 

            “Well, neither was convincing Kristina that she was dead either.” Jane offered with a shrug. “Red John is becoming more complex.”

 

            “He wasn’t complex before?” Van Pelt asked. Jane shook his head. “Why not?”

 

            “Red John only killed his victims; he didn’t play mind games with the law enforcement.” Jane answered. “Now, he’s killing, _and_ playing games with the local law enforcement.” Jane brought his hand down to the inside of his jacket and pulled out the red envelope with ease. “Red John has become a bored serial killer, and bored serial killers like to change MO’s.”

 

            “I had _no_ idea you knew forensic psychology, Jane.” Lisbon replied, dryly. “I’m sure that Wainwright will be pleased to hear this.” 

 

            “Meh,” Jane waved her off. “It’s amongst many of my diverse talents.”

 

            “You mean beyond being a general pain in the ass?” Lisbon’s comment drew a few snickers from Van Pelt and Rigsby.

 

            “Now, now Lisbon; I solve cases, and then you have absolutely no problems with my methods of execution.” Jane mocked, lightly before he glanced back down at the crinkled envelope in his hands. “Do you think we should open these here?” His blue eyes shifted around the nearly empty bullpen.

 

            “Jane, we’re not relocating to your attic to open a bunch of letters.” Lisbon sighed at the blossoming smile on his face.

 

* * *

            “I think I just saw a rat.” Van Pelt muttered, as the entire Serious Crimes Unit gathered together in Jane’s attic. Jane grinned up at her from his makeshift bed.

 

            “You’ve met my good friend Al, I see.”

 

Lisbon shook her head balefully. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.”

 

            “We needed a safe place to talk.”

 

            “The attic has three windows, Jane.” Cho commented. “This isn’t safe.”

 

            “I meant safe from being overheard.” Jane answered. “ _If_ these letters are from Red John, I would rather nobody know.” Jane said nothing else as he ripped open his scarlet envelope, and carefully slid out the heavy crème paper with his hands.

 

The unit followed his actions and for a few minutes, nobody said anything at all until…

 

            “Red John is getting _married_?!?” Van Pelt clamored in surprise.

 

            “He invitedus to his wedding.” Cho stated.

 

            “This is a joke, right?” Rigsby asked in disbelief.

 

Lisbon stared down at the letter in her hand. “We’re supposed to RSVP?”

 

            “I think we should go.” Jane stated. Rigsby and Van Pelt turned to stare at him in total disbelief, while Lisbon shook her head and Cho just blinked. “I’ve always wanted to attend a wedding.”

 

            “You can’t be serious, Jane!” Van Pelt exclaimed.

 

            “Oh, but I am.” Jane replied. “You see Grace; I really do enjoy watching and attending weddings.”  

 

            “He also likes crashing funerals and bar mitzvahs.” Lisbon calmly remarked with a grimace, before she glanced at him. “We _can’t_ attend this wedding, Jane.”

 

            “Why not?”

 

            “Firstly, this is the wedding of _Red John_.” Lisbon spoke, as she crossed her arms against her chest.

 

            “So?”

 

            “Secondly, this is the wedding of _Red John_.”

 

            “You’ve said that already, Lisbon.” Jane replied.

 

            “Thirdly, this is the damn wedding of _Red John_.”

 

Jane stared at her in surprise. “You think I’m going to _kill_ him at his own wedding?” Lisbon rolled her eyes. “Oh come on, Lisbon. I’m not _that_ cold.”

 

            “Yes, you are.” Cho responded. “You’ve only been swearing revenge against him for almost nine years now.”

 

            “It’s been nine years?” Jane innocently questioned. “I had absolutely _no_ idea.”

 

            “Cute.” Lisbon grumbled, and Jane frowned.

 

            “I really want to go to this wedding between Red John and…” Jane glanced back down at the crème piece of paper in his hand. “…party.” Jane glanced back up at Lisbon. “Hm. Red John is also a polygamist, apparently.”

 

            “Good for him!” Lisbon exclaimed. “But, you’re still not going and neither are we.”

 

            “Ten bucks says we will.” Rigsby muttered to Van Pelt, who immediately hushed him.  

 

            “If we go, we will have a _much_ better chance of…”

 

            “If you finish that sentence, I will not hesitate to arrest you for premeditation of murder.” Lisbon warned.

 

Jane beamed. “…inviting him out for ice cream.”

 

            “You’re on drugs, aren’t you?” Rigsby questioned.

 

            “If the drugs of life count, then yes!” Lisbon scoffed at Jane’s answer, before he continued on before she could say anything. “I’m thinking we should also get him a gift…”

 

Lisbon shook her head in bemusement. “Because yes, nothing says congrats on your new marriage quite like blood stains on your carpet.”  

 

            “Toasters are practical, aren’t they?” Jane asked. “We could even have it inscribed to say: ‘Red John hearts Party’.”

 

            “You’re joking, aren’t you?” Van Pelt perceived, after a few moments of rare silence.

 

            “No, Van Pelt.” Jane sarcastically sighed. “I’m completely serious about sending the serial killer who murdered my family a toaster.” Van Pelt went scarlet.

 

Lisbon rolled her eyes. Jane could be such an ass sometimes. “Did you send this to us as a joke?”

 

“No! Why would _I_ , of all peoplejoke about Red John, Lisbon?” Jane stated. “He really _is_ apparently getting married.” Van Pelt crinkled her nose. “Regardless, I still think we should go and…”

 

“Didn’t we _just_ discuss this?” Lisbon inquired.

 

Jane grinned as he spoke. “I thought we were being completely figurative.” 

 

“Bull.” Jane continued to grin at Lisbon’s call. “Promise me you won’t go.”

 

“Fine.” Jane replied. “I won’t go…”

 

Lisbon eyed him, distrustfully. “Jane…”

 

            “I won’t go.” Jane answered. “I _promise_.”

 

* * *

            “Option number fifteen: you could have just _listened_ to me.” Lisbon hissed to Jane, as one of Red John’s masked acquaintances led the entire team from the set of bedrooms that his boss had _so_ gratefully supplied them with to the downstairs dining room.  “Option number sixteen: you could have not gone.” Jane frowned. “Option number seventeen: you could have kept your word.” Jane opened his mouth. “Option number eighteen: you could have _told_ us about the black van…”

 

            “I _said_ I was sorry!” Jane muttered. “I didn’t actually think Red John would…”

 

            “You’re right! You didn’t think!” Lisbon responded, angrily. “You’re an _idiot_.”

 

            “I think idiot is a bit _strong_ of a word…” Jane defended, as they passed the row of candle sticks hanging in the decorative foyer of _wherever_ they were.

 

            “It isn’t.” Cho gave.

 

            “Yeah, Jane—you got us _kidnapped_ and they took our weapons.” Rigsby answered from behind. “How could this _not_ be idiotic?”

 

            “Look at the bright side,” Jane tried to offer optimistically. “We _all_ get to take a fun-filled vacation from work to attend a wedding.”

 

            “Boss?” Rigsby asked.

 

            “Yes, Rigsby?”

 

            “If we get out of this, can I kick his ass?”

 

Lisbon glanced over her shoulder at Rigsby and nodded. “If I get to kill him first, yeah sure.” The masked associate ushered them into the dining room, and motioned for them all to take a seat before he left without saying a single word. 

 

            "I’ve gotten better treatment at a gas station.” Jane quipped. “At least they ask if I want diesel or unleaded fuel…”

 

            “Jane, just _shut up_ already.” Van Pelt snapped, and Jane glanced over at her in surprise. “I’m sorry, but you’re getting on my nerves.”

 

            “You’re _all_ getting on my nerves.” Lisbon gritted.

 

            “You didn’t have to come.” Jane replied. “I didn’t put a gun to your head and…”

 

            “…and having Red John kill you seemed like a _much_ better option?” Lisbon sarcastically remarked with her arms crossed against her chest. “If you even _think_ we’d let you come in here without backup, you really must be out of your damned mind.”

 

Jane didn’t even ask how she knew he had been crossing his fingers the entire time, mainly because the question seemed rather inane when an equally masked Red John stepped into the room and shut the doors to the dining room behind him.

 

            “I hope that you all found your accommodations to your likings?” Red John asked, as he joined the five at the large table with a smile. Lisbon shot Jane a death glare from across the table, to which Jane ignored in favor of studying Red John. “Oh come now, conversation is the societal linchpin to better relationships and…”

 

            “ _What_ better relationship?” Van Pelt taunted. “We don’t even _have_ a relationship with you!”

 

Red John merely laced his fingers together and grinned in her general direction. “Not yet, Grace…but you will, you _all_ will.” Everybody glanced at each other.

 

            “And you asked me if _I_ was on drugs?” Jane muttered to Rigsby.

 

            “It’s nice to see that you’re doing well today, Patrick.” Red John turned to face him.

 

            “I’d be doing much better if I could kill you.” Jane responded.

 

            “I’m sure you would, but alas, nobody is dying today!” Red John answered, brightly. “Do you know why, Teresa?” Lisbon remained quiet. “I’m getting _married_ today and I’ve been planning this _happy_ day for months—guests, the minister, the rooms, the decorations—my wedding day has even been declared the _happiest_ day in the world.”

 

            “I thought the happiest day in the world was after tax day.” Jane muttered again, and Red John chuckled.

 

            “I think you’ll reevaluate your choice of happiest day tonight, Patrick.” Red John replied. “Especially, after we all are set to be wed at dusk.”

 

            “You’re kidding, right?” Rigsby exclaimed. “There’s no way…”

 

            “I don’t joke, Wayne.” Red John responded. “I’m a serious serial killer, who wants to get married to you all tonight.”

 

            “Why?” Cho asked.

 

            “Ah. Well Kimball,” Red John began, with a soft chortle. “In between victims, I often spend my spare time in isolation. Four weeks ago, somebody sent me a bridal magazine by accident…”

 

            “…is this person still alive?” Lisbon boldly asked.

                       

            “Of course, Teresa.” Red John said. “It was an honest mistake, and I only just recently acquired this address.”

 

            “…legally?” Van Pelt questioned.

 

            “Yes, Grace.” Red John answered, and he continued to speak at her look of disbelief. “I have a well-paying job. I pay taxes, and if summoned, I attend jury duty without doing any _other_ criminal acts.”

           

            “But, you’re a serial killer.” Rigsby pointed out.

 

            “Yes, I am.” Red John replied. “I _do_ have other hobbies though, besides the knife ones.” Jane glanced at Lisbon, who seemed on the verge of becoming sick. “As I was _saying_ , I got this bridal magazine by accident and the longer it sat on my desk, the longer I realized I just _really_ wanted to have a wedding.” Red John shrugged. “I could have kidnapped _anybody_ and forced them to marry me, but that would have been immoral.” Jane almost thought about pointing out the ironies in Red John killing and Red John kidnapping, but the serial killer continued before he had the chance to do so. “Then, I thought of my favorite agents in the whole wide world; the Serious Crimes Unit within the CBI.”

 

            “You _still_ kidnapped somebody,” Lisbon pointed out. “And, are we _supposed_ to feel flattered that you thought of us?” 

 

            “Patrick responded to the RSVP. It’s not kidnapping if you stated your intent within the fine print.” Red John beamed, brightly. “And of course! It’s an honor to be marrying me.”

 

            “We’re not marrying you.”

 

            “Oh, yes you are.”

 

            “No.” Jane argued. “We’re not. We’re going to kill you.”

 

            “You’d kill your husband, Patrick?”

 

_Everybody_ with the exception of Red John blanched.

 

            “After all, who better to get married to than the people who are ultimately trying to arrest you…right?”

 

            “You’re a sick twisted bastard.” Rigsby threw.

 

            “Oh, dear.” Red John chided him, lightly. “I’d save _those_ words for our honeymoon.”


End file.
